


Cyclic

by My Language Is Sarcasm (Gift_of_the_Dragons)



Category: Poetry - Fandom
Genre: Complete, Gen, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Irony, Through the Looking Glass, narrative poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1958082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gift_of_the_Dragons/pseuds/My%20Language%20Is%20Sarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not my favorite, admittedly.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Cyclic

**Author's Note:**

> Not my favorite, admittedly.

We had run against convention;

Lost among our alibis;

Caught within suspension;

Trapped within the gossamer threads.

Looking out from gazing in,

Finding me to be what I see;

Turning away, rejecting my twin,

I had found nothing to behold.

Left alone to agonize,

Thoughts humming like the Aedes,

To sharpen, hone my esprit,

I worked to break free of the mould.

 

Diaphanous light shattered like glass,

And I fell down, down, down, like Alice,

To find myself at an impasse;

Dropped in the middle of an unspoken war.

The unicorn was chained;

And the lion had been crowned;

There was everything to gain;

And everything to lose.

They could not call on Pallas

Without the olive branch they did abhor.

Both were doomed, both were drowned,

And they left us to choose. 

 

 _Who_ , they asked, _will be the first to go?_

 _You_ , we said, _will be the last to die._

How they knew, I did not know;

But both threw themselves away.

Without anyone to rule,

All did run afoul.

We found ourselves headed by a fool;

And everything was soon to follow.

Destruction was all but nigh,

Barely held at bay,

And the people were all a-howl,

Calling for blood to spill and swallow.

 

Fingers were pointed, people found blame,

Weapons were taken, arms were raised;

The world was sieged, to be set aflame,

And the innocent trapped, deceived and caught.

Spun lies weaved like web,

Spiders surrounding, cornered their prey;

An intricate dance, not to miss a single step;

Convention demanded restitution.

Captives were held, and were left quite fazed.

Escape would be all for naught,

For there was no way;

Complete must be the revolution.


End file.
